


If You Die, I'm Dying with You

by hithelleth



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:52:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hithelleth/pseuds/hithelleth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU to 1 x 10 ‘Nobody’s Fault but Mine’. If you think the face-off went bad, this is how it could have gone worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Die, I'm Dying with You

Miles listens in disbelief while Bass, no, Monroe, is talking about them being family, drops his gun, offers him everything if he comes back.

He lowers his weapon.

“I'm sorry.” For a moment he wants to scream  _yes_ , go back to the way they were. But the man in front of him is a reminder of how much Bass has changed, how many things went wrong, and it is all his fault.

“I'm sorry I didn't kill you the first time,” he hears himself saying. The first time, when there was still more Bass in Monroe than now. When he couldn't do it. All he did was ruin him further, because that’s what he does, he ruins things. The pain that flits across Monroe’s face is yet another proof of it.

There is no way back now. Ben is dead. Charlie relies on him, god only knows why. A lump begins to form in his throat.

“You are not my family. You are nothing to me.” There goes everything, the bridges burnt.

He can see the moment the stranger before him breaks.

Miles’ hands shake violently as he raises the firearm, only half-seeing as he points it in front of him. Monroe lurches forward, one tenth of a second too late, when Miles has already pulled the trigger, and falls directly into the gunfire.

The shots are echoing in the hall, Miles feels the bullets ripping through Monroe in his own back. No, that’s not right…

Something burns his back, once, twice, thrice… There is a commotion of sound. His gun clatters to the ground, he follows it with his eyes and sees blood spurting from his own chest as his legs give in and he falls forward towards Monroe.

***

His head hits the concrete. There’s Bass’ face only inches away.

The back of Miles’ hand brushes against Bass’.

“Miles…” the word spills gurgling from Bass’ mouth with a stream of blood. A ghost of a smile appears around Bass’ lips.

_If you die, I'm dying with you._

_This is one hell of a twist to it_ , Miles thinks, laughing inside. Then it all goes black.

***

Jeremy runs towards the voices, Trevelyan and Finley on his heels. They round the corner just as Miles’ firearm goes off.

Jeremy freezes.

Everything happens in a blur.

Finley shoots.

Monroe falls.

Miles falls.

Finley and Trevelyan run forward, Finley jumps over the bodies, bends over Monroe “Sir…”

“Stop!” Jeremy yells. The idiot Finley halts in mid-motion.

Jeremy finally finds the strength to move.

“Get away!” he doesn't look at his men as he carefully steps around the bodies. There’s blood pooling everywhere and no hope.

Still, he crouches down beside Monroe, checking for his pulse. There’s none.

He does the same with Miles, gently turning him around. Nothing.

_Jeremy is pain. That’s all he is, more and more pain. Through bloody haze he glimpses a piece of sky, trees, grass, while he jerks from the kicks that keep coming._

Jeremy blinks, coming back to the present. He can still feel his whole body ache. For the first time in nearly fifteen years his eyes fill with tears.

Like a miracle, his hand is perfectly still as he closes Bass’ eyes, then Miles’.

He stands up.

“Arrange a transport back to the city for the generals,” he turns to Trevelyan.

“Yes, sir! What about Matheson?”

Jeremy fumes.

“Have you misheard my order, lieutenant!? I said arrange transport to the city for General Monroe  _and_  General Matheson! Have I made myself clear?! Now, go, both of you.”

“Sir, yes, sir!

After they are gone, Jeremy leans against the wall, keeping watch by the dead. He looks at them. He doesn't see generals Monroe and Matheson lying at his feet. No, there are his old friends, his guardian angels, Bass and Miles, their faces serene, almost smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta-ed. All mistakes are mine. Feedback is always welcome.


End file.
